Chapter 51
The monastery feels different tonight. Or maybe I’m the one who’s different.
I don’t walk. I stalk. I move fearlessly through the darkened passageways and rooms, almost inviting the inquisitors or anyone else to challenge me, and wishing someone would. Just to give me an outlet for all this frustration. And yet no one bites.
Somehow, this makes me even more agitated.
I stop in the middle of the library and barely suppress a groan of frustration. I know there are other supplicants who’ve taken residence in the study halls on the second floor. I’m sure there are people watching me right now, yet none of them engage.
An inquisitor observes me from the archway that leads to the central atrium, but he doesn’t move. I’m sure this is the start of some new game that will play out over the coming days before the final challenge.
A game I’m already tired of.
I shoot the man a glare and turn. Challenging an inquisitor? I’m not thinking straight. Pull yourself together. This is about survival, not hurt feelings. I place my hand over my sternum, to quell not the itch, but the ache deep in my chest.
I should return to the safety of our base.
“Pssst.”
The sound comes from the mezzanine off the library. Cindel leans with her arms draped over the railing. Of course, out of everyone I might stumble into, it would be her. I was looking for someone to give me a challenge. We lock eyes. She gives me a come-hither motion with a curl of her finger.
Despite my misgivings, my curiosity is too great—or my self-preservation is still too low—to turn down the invitation, and I make my way upstairs.
She’s hardly moved when I arrive. It’s only as I approach that she straightens away from the railing, leaning her hip against it.
I can make out two other figures in the shadows of the shelves behind her; I don’t get any closer.
“Out for a stroll?” she asks, as if this is a perfectly normal interaction.
I shrug. “Something like that.”
“It’s fortuitous. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
“Have you?” My tone is dry and uninterested. I cross my arms and tap my foot, trying to press her to tell me whatever it is she has to say.
“I wanted to apologize for how I acted after the Font.” She grips the railing harder, as though bracing herself.
I see the slight tilt in her body as she leans back—away from the idea of apologizing to me.
It’s only a flash of tiny movements, but I don’t miss any of them. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”
A pang of sympathy has my muscles relaxing slightly. “It’s all right. I understand. Consider your apology accepted.” I turn to leave.
But she stops me, pushing off the railing. “You don’t believe me.”
I regard her warily but say nothing.
Cindel smiles. It’s as bitter as vinegar. “I have something I want to give you, a gesture of goodwill.”
“Go on.” Every part of me is still on guard. But grief can change people. Especially grief as profound as losing a parent.
“I discovered a cache. I’m going to let you have it.”
“I don’t believe you,” I blurt.
That bitter smile presses thinner. “I had a feeling you’d say that.
Fine, I want half of what’s inside, and I’m too much of a coward to get it.
But you could.” Cindel acting in her own interest, I do believe.
And if my theory is right about where they’ve placed the caches, it would be challenging to get to.
“Why have me do it? Why not one of your”—I almost say lackeys—“friends?”
She gives a soft snort, as though she doesn’t see them as such. “They’re too scared, too. But I thought Valor Reborn would be brave enough.”
She has me. I either back down and look like a coward, like I’m not Valor Reborn—I can feel the eyes of the inquisitor in the archway below on me—or I follow her into what feels very much like a trap. I glance at the man in the archway. His hooded face is definitely turned our way.
Damn. He’s going to know if I back down, and it’ll get to the vicar. My father’s warnings about obliging Vicar Darius right now more than ever ring in my ears.
Although…there is the slight possibility that Cindel is sincere. One more cache might be all we need. Then we wouldn’t have to search for anything else. We could hole up in our little room and play games and tell stories for three days. I’d do anything to see my best friend at ease again.
I suppose it doesn’t hurt to look, I think before getting swept away in the fantasy of an easy few days before the final test. “Show me.”
“This way.” She pushes away from the railing and turns.
I fall into step after her, her two lackeys behind me. I’m very aware of their presence, my guard all the way up. The shadows of the monastery completely envelop us as we leave the faint light of the library.
There are no signs of life around us, even though I know that supplicants and inquisitors are there. Cindel leads us through the corridors, up into the artificer tower. For a second, I think she’s going straight for our hiding spot, but she turns into another workshop.
As we enter, I have the distinct sensation of eyes upon me. I glance over my shoulder, past the lackeys, and into the corners were the shadows cling. No one is there.
“It’s just out here…” Cindel says, guiding us around a shelf of tools to a narrow window with wind hissing through it.
The wall around the window frame is pockmarked with the holes left behind by nails.
A tarp that I can only assume had been blocking the opening a short time ago is crumpled on the floor.
“Can you see it?” She stands off to the side and points.
I hesitate but ultimately step forward, keeping my hand on the window frame in case she’d dare to give me a shove.
There is a narrow ledge outside that runs along the side of the very top of the monastery.
Its width is barely the length of my foot.
To the right, in the direction that Cindel pointed, is a muslin bag strung up by crimson ribbons that hold it closed.
It sways in the wind, hanging from one of the buttresses that prop up the outside of the monastery, showing off its Mercy seal as it rotates.
From here, it certainly has the same look of what Lucan found earlier, though it’s hard to be sure in the darkness.
It hangs over a wider platform, but to get there one would need to side-step on one of the narrowest ledges I’ve ever seen.
“See why we were all too scared to get it?” Cindel whispers near my ear.
She moved closer while I was distracted.
Closer than I’d like her to be, and I barely resist the urge to shove her away.
“But we all agreed that whatever it is must be very special. If it wasn’t, why would they put it somewhere that inaccessible? ”
“You raise a good point,” I admit. “Which is why I’ll come back in the morning to get it.” Along with Lucan and Saipha.
“In the morning?” She sounds aghast. “Why would you wait that long?”
“It’s hardly safe for me to go outside in the middle of the night.”
“Mercy Knights thrive in the night.” She smiles thinly.
“Mercy Knights have a wall much thicker than the sole of their boots to patrol.”
“You’re Valor Reborn, the hope of Vinguard. Surely this doesn’t intimidate you.”
She’s trying to pressure me into a corner again, but there’s no inquisitor around, and I don’t care enough about what Cindel actually thinks of me, so it won’t work.
Besides, when I glance at the narrow ledge, my whole body tenses, rejecting the notion.
But when I bring my gaze back to her, there’s something almost…
hopeful about her stare. As though she really wants to see me do it.
Then, as if disgusted with herself, she shakes her head and steps away.
“Well, if you find the courage, don’t forget you owe me half—a finder’s fee.
” She points back at me, now a few paces from the door, collecting Mikel and the other guy whose name I never bothered learning. “I’ll know if you got it.”
They walk out, and their footsteps slowly disappear. I strain my ears and hear nothing more.
I’ll know if you got it. So will the inquisitors. They saw me going here to get this cache. Will they go to the vicar, and if they do, will it turn his ire on me or, worse, the people I love?
I stare at the bag.
Saipha is struggling. She’ll never admit it, but she’s at her limit. I know her well enough to be certain. I bite my lip. There might be something in the bag to help her regain her steadiness. Still, it would be wiser to return to the room and get Lucan and Saipha.
I glance back at the doorway, and prickles creep up my neck. I have no doubt we were seen coming in here, and like Cindel said, it’s only a matter of time before someone else discovers the bag. If it wasn’t the inquisitor that overheard us, then another supplicant.
Cursing under my breath, I think of Saipha’s shaky hands and step onto the window ledge.
The wind sweeps up the sheer walls of the monastery like a warning, whipping my hair around.
With one hand still gripping the inside of the window frame, I lean out ever so slightly to inspect the path.
The ledge is maybe a bit bigger than I thought at first, but still too narrow for comfort.
But there’s a sort of landing created by a bracer from the buttress that extends underneath the bag.
A Mercy Knight would do it. The thought sticks like a thorn. Don’t be a coward. Choose to be unafraid. Your friend needs you.
Committing myself, I shuffle my feet to the edge of the ledge. I shift my grip on the window, transferring my hands to the outside. I keep my back to the wall and lean into it, using my legs to create tension.
The dark city beneath me seems to stretch farther and farther away as it feels like the monastery rises several stories into the air with each shuffle of my feet.
I blink several times, reminding myself it’s all in my head.
But from out here, it feels like I’m no longer just four floors up; I’m dozens. I’m in the clouds.
You can do this, Isola.
My fingertips tremble and ache as I grip the nooks and crannies in the stone. Every bump of worn and mislaid brick digs into my back as I try to meld myself with the building. One step. Then the next. Little by little…
I keep my focus on the bag. It’s almost within reach. A few more steps and…
I slide my right foot onto the small landing under the bag and then practically jump the rest of the way, throwing myself slightly off-balance as I spin my arms. I wobble, try to recover, my stomach pitching as my gaze catches on the ground far below.
I nearly tumble off the ledge and have to swallow a scream as I finally steady myself in the last second.
One palm against the wall, I pant softly and catch my breath before loosening the tie that holds the bag onto a hook hammered into the stone above. Luckily, the knot isn’t too tight. The inquisitors must’ve thought they’d made this one hard enough to get to as it was…no need to add more difficulty.
The sack’s heavier than I expected. Lumpy, too. I’d been hoping for food…but my gut tells me that’s not what’s inside. Not with these weird angular edges and curved shapes poking the bag.
Clutching it to me, I slide it down my body, lowering it to the platform at my feet, Fingers trembling with excitement, I undo the ties at the top of the sack and open it wide.
“Scrolls?” I take a deep breath and scowl at the bag. This doesn’t make sense. Unless… I begin to rummage through, looking at titles, heart sinking. They’re all basic information. “What good are random scrolls?”
As my confusion mounts, a cackle rings from the window. My eyes meet Cindel’s. She grins. “This is how I know you’re not Valor Reborn. Our savior would never be so stupid.”
My cheeks burn instantly, and I straighten. I was right. It was a trap. I knew better, and I walked right into it.
Her expression shadows, becoming positively sinister. “My mother is dead because of your inaction.”
Standing on a tiny platform where one slip would mean my death is not the place to have this discussion. I glance over my shoulder, then back at Cindel. The only way inside is through the window where she stands. “Cindel—”
“She died because of you! I demand blood now!” Cindel screeches. She moves so fast, it’s almost a blur. She nearly launches herself from the window to throw an artificer’s cog at me.
I narrowly dodge, managing to keep my balance on the landing as the heavy metal disc falls and falls to the ground below.
I reach for one of the scrolls, readying my own projectile.
But another one of her lackeys is there, what looks like the broken leg of a chair in hand.
They were both ready—I bet they were the ones to put this damn bag here to begin with.
I dodge again, boots scraping to collect my balance.
Cindel is back, and I’m not fast enough this time.
I don’t even see what she throws, but something heavy and dull smacks my temple, and I stumble. The world blurs. I blink rapidly, trying to bring it back into focus. Reaching out a hand, I search for the wall, but I can’t find it. The world tilts, and my fingers grope the open air.
Shit.
I fall.